


Moths to a Flame

by RainSky



Series: Two Halves of a Single Weapon [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Abuse, Atonement - Freeform, Body Image, Brother/Sister Incest, Canonical Child Abuse, Character Death, Childhood Friends, Classism, Colourism, Competition, Court Poetry, Courtly Love, Cross-Class Friendship, Duty, Dysfunctional Family, Exceptionalism, F/M, Family Bonding, Fire Nation (Avatar), Fire Nation Royal Family, Firebending & Firebenders, Forced Marriage, Forced Pregnancy, Forgiveness, Grief/Mourning, Heian Period, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Death in Childbirth, Mental Competence, Multi, Nationalism, Protectiveness, Rehabilitation, Requited Unrequited Love, Sexual Coercion, Sexual Tension, Shinto, Sibling Incest, Sibling Rivalry, Values Dissonance, War, Xenophobia, flawed parents, political machinations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:01:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26292295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainSky/pseuds/RainSky
Summary: Zuko and Azula are two halves of a single weapon. The Fire Lord's palace will always be incomplete if one were missing. An honest examination of the conflicting motivations at play in the Fire Nation, and two young siblings' grueling recovery from the inevitable tragedy put into motion since before their births. Azuko, non-smut. Minor OCs. Cross-post from FFN.Collected into "Two Halves of a Single Weapon" alongside related side-stories and point-of-divergence one-shots.
Relationships: Aang & Zuko (Avatar), Azula & Lu Ten, Azula & Lu Ten & Zuko, Azula/Zuko (Avatar), Azulon/Ilah (Avatar), Iroh & Piandao (Avatar), Iroh/Iroh's Wife (Avatar), June/Lu Ten, Lu Ten & Ursa, Lu Ten & Zuko, Ozai/Ursa (Avatar), Piandao (Avatar)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Two Halves of a Single Weapon [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1918474
Comments: 19
Kudos: 55





	1. A Whisper of Stars

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is a story of recovery and love. It is _not_ smutty, but there are moments I cannot justify as PG-13. I recommend this for readers 16 and up. This story will finish around Izumi's coronation. I have taken great pains to account for the canonical timelines and establish workable birth years for adults as far as official data from the series goes, shoving their birthdays earlier or later for compliance. I accept the general plot of _The Search_ but play a little looser with specific scenes and the timeline, treating it as if it took place two years after the end of the war, instead of just one. I ignore _Smoke and Shadow_ entirely.
> 
> Characters in the Fire Nation also communicate via poetry. I'll be using the classical 5-7-5-7-7 syllabic scheme of Japanese _tanka_ , as well as using classical motifs. This is most prominent between Zuko and Azula, but it's not a character quirk, just a part of their culture. You'll enjoy it more if you have a background in classical Japanese poetry, but I wrote in English. Please note that based on canonical context clues, I have given Zuko a birthday in April and Azula in late September; per the traditional lexicon, this affects the metaphors I have chosen.
> 
> I went with a Russian diminutive scheme for the Fire Royals because I struggled to create a nickname for 'Azula' - it just doesn't truncate in a fashionable way. I couldn't even use alternative readings for the kanji because the official kanji suggests the names are actually Chinese. I came up with 'Zulya' and then created 'Zusha' and 'Tenya' to match. The only character who uses 'Zuzu' is Azula.
> 
> Significant Characters: Zuko, Azula, Ozai, Ursa, Iroh, Lu Ten, Azulon, Lu Sha (OC)
> 
> Pairings: Azuko (endgame), minor Maiko and Junko, Azulon/Ilah, brief Ozai/Ursa, Iroh/his wife (OC), canon pairings generally respected.
> 
> OCs: The most major OC is Iroh's wife (Lu Ten's mother). She disappears from the story somewhat early on for obvious reasons. Other OCs dot the story as needed.
> 
> Story TW: Consensual incest (Azuko), discussion of consent with regards to Azula's mental competence, sexual situations that do not involve sex acts (non-explicit), character death and mourning, classism and colourism by culture, minor body image issues, spousal abuse (Ozai to Ursa), child abuse (Ozai to Zuko and Azula), allusions to rape by coercion (Ozai to Ursa)

September 87 AG

The teenaged son of the Crown Prince hated most royal celebrations. He’d spent his last birthday greeting an endless stream of dignitaries he didn’t know and ministers he didn’t care much for. Prince Lu Ten could begrudgingly admit that the culinary staff always went above and beyond for important events; all the same, he would rather spend that time sparring or meditating. Or even reading foreign propaganda materials that avoided being treasonous by “virtue” of being so damn _ludicrous_.  


Lu Ten smiled fondly at his little cousin. Uncle Ozai had been the handsome brother, a blessing both his children inherited. With her hair black as the seed of the blackberry lily and her face fair as the moon, Princess Azula would surely grow up into a beautiful young woman, winning the hearts of lordlings from lands near and far. For the moment, she was allowed to be ordinary two-year-old Zulya, the center of an intimate celebration she would not remember this time next year, away from the prying eyes of strangers.  


By the little courtyard pond with the turtle-ducks, Lu Ten found the birthday girl’s elder brother, quite forgotten by the adults, but happily helping himself to sweets.  


“Evening, Zuko.”  


The boy couldn’t help making a guilty expression, even though it had been his own grandfather - the reigning Fire Lord himself - who had plied him with the fluffy cake to stay out of trouble while the adults sipped rice wine and partook of the September moonlight through autumn foliage. Even Lu Ten’s father - the Crown Prince - who typically favoured a number of teas and tea infusions happily imbibed as per autumn tradition.  


“How are you doing?”  


“Good. When is it going to be Zulya’s birthday again?”  


Lu Ten supposed the real question was “When can we have cake again?” The boy would turn five next spring; it would be his last private celebration before his birthday turned into yet another stuffy state affair.  


“We’ll be celebrating _your_ birthday before that,” Lu Ten laughed warmly, watching his cousin’s eyes grow to the size of saucers. He wished he was young enough to be excited about birthdays again; in only a matter of years, the intimate fêtes would end even for little Azula. All the same, the heir to the Crown Prince looked forward to the days he would serve his beloved Fire Nation with both his cousins at his side - the greatest team ever to exist, he hoped. They would make their people prosperous and their ancestors proud _together_ , and there was no time like the present to lay the groundwork for that dream. “Zuko, you’re four years of age already. You have a big boy job now. It’s a _very_ important job, one that even _I_ can’t do.”  


“Really?” He asked, giving Lu Ten a regrettable view of chewed-up violet cake.  


“Yeah! You’re a big brother,” Lu Ten said with an encouraging tone that suggested Zuko had a hand in that reality and belied the commonplace mundanity of the role. “That means you have a job to protect your little sister. Do you understand?”  


“Uh-huh!” The four-year-old vowed solemnly, this time his mouth too full for words.  


The young prince chuckled, knowing it was a lesson he would wind up drilling in his cousin many times more in the years to come.

December 88 AG

The final month of 88 AG was bitterly cold, even in the warmest climates along the equator of the globe. In the Fire Nation, heavy blankets and cloaks had been distributed by order of the Fire Lord. Fire-benders from the domestic forces patrolled frequently and conducted welfare checks on non-bender households to ensure all citizens’ homes were heated within reason.  


Within the bounds of the caldera, the elite residents were safe, if a little peeved to need to be bundled up in thicker layers than they were accustomed. The servants here were the fortunate ones, carrying out their orders within comfortably heated mansions. The villa closest to the walls of the Royal Palace was empty - out of an abundance of caution and against tradition, Fire Lord Azulon had ordered his younger son’s family to stay in the palace until the winter passed.  


The young Prince Zuko had initially been enchanted by the petal-like snow, raining over the Royal Capital like an unseasonal downpour of plum or cherry blossoms. He’d asked his mother if the volcano was spewing ash in anger at the Fire Nation; that had prompted a lengthy explanation about the winter season in other parts of the world, a conversation his father had unfortunately overheard. For his “insipid question” he had been forced to copy an anthology of seasonal poems five times over - once for each year of his age.  


That had coloured Zuko’s opinion of snow somewhat.  


And while Zuko always put on a brave face, never wanting Prince Lu Ten to think any less of his future right-hand man, the creaking of the enormous palace with the fluctuations of temperature creeped him out. In his giant bed in the lavish sleeping quarters he had been given, he couldn’t help envisioning wicked spirits every time the palace groaned. Though the thick brocade curtains and two sets of heavy double-fusuma doors kept out both cold and moonlight, they did nothing to quiet the howling of the wind, and he would swear he saw shadows moving about in the inky blackness. He hated being in the dark palace after sunset - not that he would have dared ask for the lanterns in his chambers to be lit.  


On this day, Zuko rose as soon as he heard the first servants bustling about.  


“Blessed be the Light of Agni and the Eternal Dawn,” he murmured.  


He quickly dressed and set to resuming his calligraphy. The sooner he finished what he knew to be the assignments for the upcoming lesson, the sooner he would be allowed leisure time outside, where creaks and groans would not haunt him.  


In the early afternoon, the young prince was finally done with his scheduled morning lessons. During a meal with his family, his father had voiced his approval that his language and calligraphy tutors had praised Zuko’s recent performance. Prince Ozai also sharply reminded Zuko not to slip in history. It would set the basis for his eventual governance lessons, and Zuko could hardly rub his aesthetic education in the lower-classes’ faces if he wound up being a useless War Minister, or whatever position Iroh or Lu Ten could find for him. Then, he’d disappeared back to the War Room where the Fire Lord was planning both realistic efforts in the Righteous War - there would be no offensive on the Water Tribes this season - and in keeping their people alive through the wintry crisis.  


With Ozai gone, Zuko and Ursa were able to relax, the former more visibly so. Ursa had to laugh at how quickly her elder child’s posture slouched. She would have to remind him there was indeed a middle ground between “soul-strainingly stiff” and “spine issues by twenty” - but that could wait for the evening.  


Azula too was aware of the change in atmosphere. Her chubby hands dipped her spoon into the lobster-crab bisque she had ignored earlier, painstakingly bringing the vermilion soup to her lips without dripping onto the table or even the outer edge of the low soup bowl. Her careful, precise fingers would not err in their course - but even if she had, at least her father would not have been here to witness.  


At Zuko’s ripe old age of five, he unfortunately had not been allowed to take his meal out of order. He understood well that Ozai took offence to a number of discourtesies he deemed unbecoming of royalty. To avoid his ire, Zuko kept his eating to a minimum before his father’s eyes, taking a sip or bite less than half as often as his mother did and seemingly leaving just a little more on his plate than was proprietous.  


When the three had finished their meal, Zuko would have free run of the palace until after sundown, when the Royal Training Grounds were vacant for his use - until he experienced his first flame, there was no need for him to train under the Light of Agni. Ursa reminded Zuko to warm-up and stretch carefully for his evening bending arts lesson. Even without the ability to fire-bend (“yet”), Fire Lord Azulon considered it prudent to acquaint Zuko with the fundamental and highly-applicable stances of fire-bending; if Zuko remained a non-bender by his sixth birthday, he would be an utter failure as a royal, but at least he could be of use in the military.  


The deadline was only four months away; it was actually _Prince Ozai’s_ volatile reaction, should Zuko fail, that drove Ursa to sleepless nights since the previous spring. Next April, dignitaries would flood the palace for Zuko’s first public birthday gala. Ursa was tormented by nightmares of strange officials openly musing over his curious lack of bending, mocking the Royal Family from between their polite, curated words, instantly triggering Ozai into a pyrokinetic rage...  


“Do not worry,” the Crown Prince Iroh had once reassured her with his usual warm smile. Loyal and self-assured, he outwardly held the same dreams of glory and ideals of exceptionalism but had none of Ozai’s personal narcissism - a perfect heir to the Eternal Dawn, the royal throne. It was hard to believe he and Ozai were brothers. “Lu Ten was born of two of the Fire Nation’s top warriors and he had his first flame late. No one doubts his prowess as a fire-bender now.”  


(“Lu Ten was born of _one_ elite warrior and _one_ pampered prince,” Princess Lu Sha had teased, the love and laughter in her family quite enviable.)  


Iroh’s words may well have been true, but they did not apply for Ursa’s children. Fire Lord Azulon had specifically gone to great lengths to “obtain” Ursa as Ozai’s Princess Consort for her blood - for her ‘grandfather’ Avatar Roku’s blood. The Fire Lord was expecting nothing short of extraordinary brilliance, and Ozai always sought his father’s approval - sought to step out from his elder brother’s vast shadow.  


After checking that he was dressed warmly enough, Ursa bade Zuko a safe adventure in the courtyard. Then, she slowly walked with Azula - not yet graceful - to her makeshift nursery for her afternoon nap. There was no rush; what was critical was that Azula walked the entire distance on her own, head held high, without letting anything distract her focus from her goal. Once she could be trusted to comport herself properly, she would be granted freedom to roam unsupervised. At least Zuko had had no issue sailing through this milestone; Ursa hoped Azula would follow in Zuko’s footsteps. She didn’t think she could bear it if both her children - unwanted, loved, beautiful, innocent - were subject to Ozai’s capricious belittling.  


Ursa knew fully well that it had not merely been the circumstances of their first meeting that had soured Ozai’s opinion of her and, indirectly, the children she had borne him at his father’s behest. He’d openly expressed distaste for everything about her without so much as a stilted, clinical hello. He had patently wanted to marry Ursa just as much as she had wanted to marry him - not at all.  


And yet he had moments - moments where he almost seemed human. Moments where they might nearly have been an ordinary family.

Memory - February 87 AG

Ursa woke with a start, her head throbbing as if some spirit were hammering her skull from within. The prince’s villa was silent, as it always was, but she _felt_ something screaming and the image of a familiar cradle haunted her bleary mind’s eye. She rose and stumbled, not wasting a moment to allow her eyes to acclimate to her unlit chambers or her body to find its balance. Blindly, she made her way to the door that adjoined her room to her husband’s. With neither permission nor hesitation, she entered and hastened to Prince Ozai’s sleeping form.  


“Ozai!” She hissed, not too loudly - just enough so she would not be hit with a knee-jerk column of flame.  


He cracked an eye open, vaguely making out Ursa’s silhouette. “What?” He had retired long after midnight; the Fire Lord preferred to busy his younger son with all manner of petty affairs, freeing up the Crown Prince for critical matters like the Righteous War. Nonetheless, Prince Ozai diligently carried out his duties, hoping to one day be deemed deserving of a voice in his father’s War Room. _This had better be important._  


“Our baby needs us.”  


Nothing further was said; grabbing only the bladed iron fan by his bedside, the prince allowed Ursa to lead him, both in their nightclothes, their hair undone, their feet bare, through the dimly lit corridor to Azula’s nursery. As they approached their destination, Ozai used a single hand to wordlessly choke the dutiful greetings of the attendants stationed outside Azula’s door as they formed in their throats. The two middle-aged women responded only to the distressed cries from the occupant of the nursery; in a fight, they were less than useless.  


Inside, Ozai ignored the unlit lanterns and surveyed the dark room. All was still, save for Azula’s soft breathing from the cradle. He took noiseless steps into the nursery, Ursa close behind, gripping a thick training pole made of ash as if her life depended on it. He side-eyed her, wondering if she was paranoid - and what in the name of Agni was she going to do with that stick anyway?  


Then, a creak came from above, loud as thunder in the silence of the night.  


_The eaves_. Ozai held out a hand, motioning for Ursa to quietly stay back and not be a liability.  


The heavy fusuma slowly eased back on either side - _multiple intruders_ , both realised - and the couple waited with bated breath as a wave of white moonlight flooded the edge of the room, flowing ever closer to the cradle.  


As soon as dark figures stole inside, there was no chance for their eyes to adjust before they were suddenly met with intense jets of vivid golden flame, painstakingly lanced to avoid their faces. Both intruders lithely dodged, but Ozai’s uncompromising lightning struck the one closer to Azula right in the stomach. He fell to the ground; there would be no interrogation later.  


The smaller assailant moved non-stop, his footfalls light enough to leave no prints on snow. There was a flash of lights reflecting off metal; without thinking, Ozai parried the toxin-laced darts with his iron fan.  


From her place by her daughter’s side, Ursa swung her pole with all the might of a mother defending her child, her kind features set in a ferocious snarl. Unfortunately, the pole was heavier than she was accustomed; while she landed a solid blow, she hit her target far too low, with the impact mostly absorbed by the relatively padded back of the upper arm. Her large swing left her abdomen wide open; even somewhat winded, the intruder instinctively found his dagger and took his chance.  


Before Ursa could suffer the consequences of her fatal, amateur mistake, Ozai had thrown his bladed iron fan unerringly true. Life left the assailant’s eyes and the dagger harmlessly tore only at Ursa’s robe as gravity exacted its impartial law.  


Gasping from adrenaline, she kicked his arm away and flew back to the cradle. Their little princess slept on, unharmed and unbothered by the bumps and thumps of falling bodies.  


Ozai confirmed the kills and tore off the cloth masks, carefully examining the assailants by the light of his pale yellow flame. Unfamiliar faces, unmarked bodies. He noted the fabric of their clothing had been dyed the darkest of blues and that, while their fighting prowess had been lacklustre, their training in stealth had been impeccable. Someone with a lot of money to burn was testing the waters.  


“Praise Agni,” Ursa sighed in relief, closing the fusuma and leaving the room lit solely by Ozai’s flames. The headache finally subsided. After kissing Azula gently on the forehead, she said, “I will go check on Zusha.” At the door, she turned back to Ozai, “Thank you.”  


He nodded, and she vanished.  


With Ursa gone and the only other eyes in the room no longer seeing, Ozai gingerly plucked Azula from her cradle, taking care to wrap her blanket around her to stave off the chilly pre-dawn air. _She can’t sleep here tonight_ , he mused, understanding the sentries must have been almost wholly eliminated if no one had come to investigate the source of the flaming spectacle by now. A nervous hand stroked the baby’s head.  


Azula stirred. “Mama?”  


“She was here,” Ozai said awkwardly in a low murmur.  


“Dad...dy…?”  


He smiled in spite of himself. “Yes, Zulya. Daddy’s here.”  


At the door, he collected his expression before rushing past the attendants, bound for his firstborn’s bedchamber.  


  
  


In the light of day, there were signs a second team of intruders had planned on abducting Zuko also; Ozai supposed the muffled clamour or bright flames from Azula’s nursery had changed their minds. _That, or additional lookouts signalled and bailed when Azula’s abduction went up in smoke._  


Prince Ozai neatly penned the line-of-duty death notifications for the villa’s thirty-two nighttime sentries; after the ink had dried, he sent small units of the Royal Procession to deliver them to the families. Once the families had a chance to say their farewells, he and the Fire Lord would personally light their funeral pyres to honour their sacrifice.  


Generations of the Fire Nation’s royal family chose not to beget spares, chose to wager on a single Crown Prince or Princess. He suspected the crisis from the Camellia-Peony War lurked in every royal’s subconscious. His father and his grandfather before him had both been sole heirs, and his brother appeared to be maintaining the tradition. His brother was supposed to have been an only child as well, as his father often unfairly reminded him.  


Behind the walls of the palace with roving patrols of elite warriors from the Royal Procession, that may have been fine. But Ozai was a younger son and, upon marriage, he moved just outside the palace walls. The next crop of guards needed to be of a higher calibre, and the Fire Lord would provide if he wanted to protect his investment.  


_The investment_. Ursa’s blood had not yet borne fruit in either child, with Zuko born soft and Azula born small. Fire Lord Azulon had sacrificed more strategic, more beneficial marriage prospects in favour of Ursa, a gamble he’d had the luxury to take _because_ he’d had a spare. Hadn’t Ozai proven useful in that regard, even unwillingly sequestered away from the glory of the battlefield where his brother carried out noble deeds yearly?  


And the woman herself was disappointingly devoid of any sort of bending capability. But the ferocity with which she had defended their child last night - if the children had inherited any of that, they may yet have the spark to be Children of Agni.

December 88 AG

Very few areas of the palace were off-limits to Zuko; in time he would appreciate the history built into the foundations and pillars. For now, he was not going to waste precious daylight.  


It was the coldest, stormiest winter in decades, but the grounds of the royal estate were kept warm enough that the five-year-old noted only that his face was chilly. Peasants in the provinces fretted over their crops and merchants just outside the Royal Caldera wrung their hands over their fleets and salable goods. Parents worried for their families’ survival and artisans whittled away their days with precious few commissions to fulfill. The domestic forces providing humanitarian aid kindly allayed the people’s fears, though not without doubts of their own. Scattered throughout the vast Earth Kingdom, Fire Nation military leaders carefully rationed supplies to ensure the well-being of their men. For Prince Zuko? The fluffy snow clouds above his head were tinged just the faintest amount of grey below the unseen tropical sun. To the young boy, it was nothing short of exciting that everything in view from soil to sky looked like coconut ice cream.  


He raced straight to the garden pond hoping to see the resident turtle-ducks. A few relatively thin pieces of ice floated in the middle of the pond, still unmelted from the night. Though the cold nipped at his exposed skin, it was plenty warm enough for the fat, feathery, naturally-sheltered waterfowl. Zuko’s disappointment that none were out and about was palpable.  


That’s all right - he didn’t need the turtle-ducks. He could make his own fun. Icicles dripped imposingly from wall eaves surrounding the garden; Zuko couldn’t reach any of them, so he followed the perimeter wall until he found one that had broken off. With his ice dagger in hand, Zuko crept a labyrinthine path from behind a tree, to among the reeds, to between some large rocks; all the while pretending he was an elite commando on a ‘stealth’ mission.  


“Tsshhhh!” He vocalised his own sound effects as he stabbed an imaginary enemy water-bender that had rushed him. Jabbing his little gloved fist at the air around him, he added, “Take this! This’ll show you to steal from the Fire Nation. Let it be known, you have been defeated by Admiral Zuko, son of Ursa and Prince Ozai, the greatest military commander in the service of Fire Lord Lu Ten! Blessed be the Eternal Dawn!”  


Zuko paused to catch his breath, exhilarated. Resuming his secret mission, he feigned a gasp as he envisioned another water-bendering master. “Yah!” He dodged a whip of water from his phantom foe and returned with a kick aimed right at the neck of his curiously short opponent.  


Oh, no! A platoon of water-benders was threatening a group of innocent peasants! Admiral Zuko ran to their aid, hopping from rock to rock, evading blasts of water and taking out the enemy as he went. “Ka-pow!” His free fist knocked away a formidable foe. He whipped around to stare down a particularly savage water-bender. “I won’t let you hurt anyone. Die!” Zuko ran at his opponent, preparing to land a roundhouse kick and -  


_Splash_.  


Zuko slipped on ice that had reformed on the rock from melted snow, and plunged into the glacial waters of the pond, spraying frigid water everywhere. The valiant battle scene evaporated.  


Fortunately for the boy, the pond was not deep. When he got his bearings and stood, Zuko’s head was well above the surface. He shivered terribly as he slowly exited the pond, his soaked winter-wear weighing him down and the water dragging at his laboured motions.  


By the time he collapsed on snow-covered land, he had started to become numb from the shocking cold and his lips had turned blue. With numb, clumsy fingers, Zuko began to tug off pieces of his uselessly water-logged clothing - his koala-sheep wool-lined gloves, his dragon-moose boots, his hooded buffalo-yak outer coat. His heart beat furiously but he drew breath slowly and his eyes ran just as languidly over his surroundings.  


A warmth flowed from someplace deep within Zuko, a place he did not know was there. The blood of dragons and the will of Agni, lying dormant his entire life, ignited and ran hot in his veins. He felt _something_ that radiated heat leave his body and hover in front of him, but it did not leave him drained. In his confusion, it took him minutes to wildly look around, and process where to focus. And then he saw it.  


Little Zuko could not keep his dilated eyes away from the miraculous golden flame above his primary sword hand. On its own volition, it floated a small distance away. Then, another appeared, and another, until he was surrounded by a ring of golden flames. Zuko tried to will them closer to dry off, but they resolutely spurned his advances. If he tried to near them, they moved away. He gave up and sat there, captivated, as the flames gently, slowly dried off his remaining garments and chased away the worst of the cold.  


With only the thought that he would never have to sleep in a dark room again, he let his mind go blank as he bathed in the warmth - he was safe. Blessed be the Light of Agni.  


  
  


By the time he was nearly dry, he recalled a troupe of entertainers on Ember Island back in May, and was struck with an idea. Zuko slogged across the courtyard back into the palace, his graceless little feet crunching through deep snow the only noise in this muted white scenescape.  


He ran through nigh-empty corridors, nearly tripping a servant on more than one occasion. The palace was much larger than the estate his family normally resided in; it was all but impossible for the small child to navigate. Zuko barged into a number of empty store rooms and unused bedchambers; it took him eight tries to find Azula’s nursery.  


Zuko reached into the crib and softly patted his sister’s shoulder. “Zulya! Psst, Zulya!” He theatrically whispered, in that indiscreet way that is cute only when children do so.  


“Mm?” The three-year-old groggily opened an eye. “Zuzu?”  


“Come on!” Zuko excitedly tugged at his sister’s arm as she blearily pushed herself up. “You gotta see this!”  


He helped her out of the crib and pulled her to the middle of the open area in the nursery, far from any furniture; all the while, she slurred “Best be ligh… ni enn ternaldun.”  


Fighting the wide, ecstatic grin pasted on his face, Zuko drew a deep breath, focusing with all the dignity he could muster to recreate that magical moment. A small orange-yellow flame obediently appeared.  


“I got my first flame!” He eagerly anticipated Azula’s reaction.  


“Oh?”  


Zuko had been hoping the fire alone would impress Azula a _bit_ more, but he supposed she had already been spoiled by the intricate displays Uncle Iroh and Cousin Lu Ten often performed for them. Undaunted, he used his entire body weight to shove several lacquered stands in front of the wall, then balanced one of the paper divider screens on top of them. He painstakingly moved several of the Enshû andon lanterns in the chamber, careful not to spill the manatee seal oil, and lined them up between the screen and the wall. He lit them one by one, then positioned himself right between the lacquered stands, on the opposite side of the screen from Azula. It took a moment for him to remember the hand puppets he had learned.  


When his hands and fingers were positioned as correctly as he could manage, he raised his arms on his side of the screen. “ROAR!”  


Azula gasped, then giggled at the silhouette of Zuko’s misshapen platypus-bear.  


He withdrew his arms and reset his fingers. “GRRRR!” A wolf with a flat face, courtesy of Zuko’s stubby digits.  


“MEEEHH.” A very lumpy puma-goat.  


Silence. Zuko exhibited his crown jewel rabaroo silhouette, the most difficult one the shadow puppeteers had taught, but completely blanked on the sort of noise live rabaroos made. “WOOF!” He guessed at random.  


Nonetheless, Azula shrieked in delight, inching toward the screen, determined to contribute a cat-owl that had been deemed simplistic enough for the younger children.  


Neither child paid any attention to their mother’s noiseless entry, having been drawn from three rooms down by the laughter from what should have been a quiet nursery. Ursa hugged the shadows of the unlit room, fondly observing the little prince and princess taking a moment to just be children naïve to the true cost of war. If the trajectory of Lu Ten’s life as he had related it to her was any indication, these innocent days were surely numbered. So lost in thought was she that it took her three full minutes to realise the implication of the lit bamboo andon lanterns.  


At long last, the young prince had experienced his much-awaited first flame.  


Her Zusha was a fire-bender, a trueborn dragon-blooded Child of Agni.  


Most importantly, he would not be outcast as a failure.


	2. The Threads of Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May 89 AG - August 90 AG

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Characters, pairings, and warnings posted in chapter one. Chapter two is eleven pages out of a fifty-two-page document so far.
> 
> As a classically-trained actor, I try to avoid bashing characters I dislike, and to advocate for their motivations regardless. I can humanise a cruel character, but I'm terrified of writing children; I will breathe a sigh of relief when I reach the fourth chapter.

May 89 AG

Early summer every year, Prince Ozai's family holidayed at his beachfront leisure home on Ember Island. It had been a tradition that began in his youth that he now shared with his young family; Crown Prince Iroh had been given the neighbouring plot but as an adult he favoured avoiding the summer crowds. The isle stayed comfortably warm year-round, but the autumn hurricanes usually emptied the beaches; and the stalwart Dragon of the West feared no storm.

Aside from yet another dismal performance of _Love amongst the Dragons_ , little Prince Zuko and Princess Azula spent their days enjoying the beach. They reenacted the final duel of the play using palm fronds on a daily basis, with Azula pouting until the "Water Spirit" let her "Dragon Emperor" win; and erected formless sandcastles the tides claimed as tribute every night.

The best part of their Ember Island retreat was the thick, rich ice cream. The artisans of the Emiemi Sweet Shop & Creamery handmade fourteen flavours of ice cream every day; the founder Emiri's original recipe had even earned recognition from a young Fire Lord Azulon. Emiri remained the only water-bender ever to be nominated to the Order of the Fire Lily, the highest civilian honour within the nation - and her family the only to be left in peace.

Every day, Zuko and Azula would each choose a different flavour and share. Azula was still too small, so Zuko would lift Azula up so she could press her face to the glass. She always took too long to look - eight of the flavours were daily stalwarts that never left rotation - but he boosted her with only a passing complaint regardless. After all, Emiri's granddaughter found the gesture irresistibly endearing, and often gave the little royals extra scoops. Not a bad deal.

  
  


Prince Ozai and Princess Ursa lounged in the same, large cabana, conscientious that the midday Light of Agni was not to be trifled with. The table between them held two iced cocktails - a signature Ember Island concoction consisting of sweet osmanthus flower wine, lychee liqueur, blue curaçao, and grapefruit juice. The proud fire-bending prince seldom indulged in sweets when seasonal custom did not dictate it; he never imbibed the rest of the year, believing excess drinking would weaken his body and his flame. He didn't know what spirit possessed him to order a second drink for Ursa the first year she visited the island with him, but she had seemed to like it well enough, and sharing glasses of 'Princess Keika' was now a tradition for the couple.

Ember Island reminded Ursa of home - not the enormous Capital Island, but the tiny backwater isle of Hira'a. The grand villas of Ember Island were a far cry from the humble abodes she grew up with, and just about anything could be imported into the palace. But the lower housing density and the fact that the beachgoers were primarily aristocrats _choosing_ to relax, slow down, and not be so strung-out echoed the people of Hira'a, content with the simple pleasures of life.

Whatever spirit had compelled Ozai to invite his family along for his personal holiday the first time around, Ursa prayed to it in her gratitude. It was so important for her children to see their father at his warmest; she hoped this would continue even as the children grew.

Furthermore, according to her mother Rina, she and Ursa's 'grandmother' Ta Min had lived on Ember Island for much of her childhood after their trip through the Spirit World. The highborn Ta Min's ancestral home still stood, one of numerous holiday estates her family held; Ursa had seen it from afar on a walk around the island with Zuko three years earlier. She had thought she'd caught sight of someone in the mansion, but the possibility it had been her mother was nil. Her heart had skipped a beat, but it could even have been her wishful imagination.

As a child of one of the lowest magistrates in the country, Ursa would likely never have been able to connect to her maternal roots, even in this distant way, had she not been ripped away from everything she had known on Hira'a. This and her two beautiful children were the silver linings in the storm clouds of Ursa's adulthood.

Princess Consort to a handsome prince. It would have been a laughable notion to a younger Ursa, whose sun-darkened complexion forever marked her as a commoner, envied by absolutely no woman of any status in the Royal Caldera. She hadn't even been the village beauty in Hira'a, where it was sensibly not considered shameful to be kissed by Agni's Light. It was a wonder Ikem even looked twice at her - not that that dream would ever be realised now.

The Fire Lord and his son had spirited her away from Hira'a for her blood lineage; love (and, indeed, her own autonomy) had never been a consideration from the start. She supposed it was better they had taken her, despite her more dilute blood, than her mother, who would likely not have survived the birth of Zuko at nearly fifty. The truth was Ursa's mother had been the _granddaughter_ of Avatar Roku and Lady Ta Min, the product of their beloved daughter Rina's tryst with a local village boy; upon Rina's death by childbirth, they had raised Rina II as their greatest second chance. Given that the original Rina had been one of their youngest children and the only to survive childhood, the generation gap had always been plainly obvious to Rina II. Ursa suspected her own blood as great-granddaughter had questionable value at best, but the secret victory she had relished over the Royal Family had been tempered for years by worry over Zusha's fate had he not proven himself a true fire-bender.

She glanced at the man on her left. Ozai wasn't exactly smiling, but his mood seemed serene enough. When he wasn't thinking about military conquest or obsessively shoving fire-bending forms onto Zusha in search of Azulon's validation - the latter of which Ursa could sympathise with - he _almost_ seemed like the charming prince of children's stories. Ursa dared to lightly lay a hand on top of his.

_We're stuck together. Can we please try?_

He didn't move his hand away.

  
  


"Hey! You made me drop my ice cream!" Zuko yelled, accusation lining his voice.

The older boys rolled their eyes. The stouter boy returned, "So?"

The young prince's face turned indignant and he held his chin high. "So you have an obligation to compensate me with another."

They looked from the little prince to each other and back. "Nah, I don't think we will."

Watching the scene unfold, Azula was aware of _something_ snaking through her veins. Wrong. This was all wrong. Zuzu may have been a dum-dum, but he was _her_ dum-dum. How dare they treat something of _hers_ this way? That _something_ within her burned intensely hot and bitingly cold simultaneously.

Azula unflinchingly walked past her brother, shoving her own ice cream into Zuko's hands as she did.

"Zulya…" His initial instinct had been to put his own body between his little sister and the two meanies, but her eyes remained unerringly trained on the older boys, and the icy flame in her eyes frightened Zuko.

The flame within her yearned for release, yearned for the freedom to hungrily devour all the wrongs in Azula's world, to burn away all the evils and allow only a purified utopia to be reborn from the ashes. It was simple - she was royalty, and royalty earned their crowns by protecting their kingdoms. Her Zuzu was a part of her kingdom; therefore, she had a duty to purge those who vexed him with her divinely-given flame.

Her fingertips were ready to erupt from the rising heat. This was the first true test of her worth as a Child of Agni. If she failed to protect her own, how could she ever be worthy of her birthright?

  
  


"What in the name of the Eternal Dawn is happening here?"

Prince Ozai's quiet voice had no need to rise to cut across the clamour, his regal demeanour heralding the status his beachwear belied. He stared scornfully at the boiling scene at his feet.

"Oh, Agni's Light!" Princess Ursa, who had been right behind her husband, involuntarily brought her hands up to her collar, taken aback.

 _Oh, yes._ Zuko fought back a smirk. He had been on the receiving end of Ozai's punishments more often than he cared to count. His father did not suffer fools well, be they royal, noble, or baseborn; and the incident was about to be glorious. _Dad is totally gonna rip them a new one._

" _Your Royal Highness_ ," Zuko addressed loudly, making a grandiose show of dropping to his knees in deference. Azula followed suit. Once bidden to rise, Zuko continued. "The strangest thing has happened, sir. _Her Royal Highness Princess Azula of the Royal Caldera_ and I were minding our own affairs, not bothering anyone at all, when we were attacked, unprovoked."

As Zuko spoke, both his tormentors' parents and passing spectators began dropping to their knees as well, much to the boy's smug satisfaction.

"The -" _What's the word? 'Assailer'?_ \- "villains refused to admit wrongdoing or to compensate for our losses. As we had reasonable fear for our well-being, the princess has taken matters into her own hands. We meant no offence in infringing on your jurisdiction, sir."

 _What on earth is wrong with that child?_ Ursa resisted an urge to recoil at both her son's histrionic monologue and his rampant glee that two boys only a few years older than he were likely to receive brutal comeuppance over a 'loss' that amounted to no more than a few bronze coins. Granted, they _were_ jerks - and how _dare_ they hurt a hair on her baby's head? Her theatrical training, innate charity and maternal instinct simmered in a war of attrition; even she was not immune to the atmosphere of the Royal Palace, rife with intrigue, back-stabbing, and self-preservation.

Ursa lightly took Ozai by the elbow in both hands and implored, "Please, Ozai. They were wrong, and they _should_ be punished. But it's not a crime punishable by _death_."

The prince's eyes remained fixed on the two charred figures on the ground, moaning in agony as their skin bubbled and began to slough, with both sets of parents kneeling in contrition to the Fire Lord's son and purposefully ignoring their own children's cries for solace; as he considered the crime, the degree of culpability, and Ursa's plea for leniency.

"Assault on a member of the Royal Family _is_ , actually, eligible for capital punishment."

Zuko didn't need to see the faces of his tormentors' parents to know they must be making fearful, miserable expressions at the ground. He _wanted_ the bullies to hurt and suffer for what they had unrepentantly done to him with no provocation, but did he actually want them _dead?_ Hadn't Zulya's flames been punishment enough?

"You are fortunate that today you have crossed me, and not His Majesty the Fire Lord himself. My father follows the law to the letter; _I_ am generous and forgiving."

Those present unanimously waited with bated breath; the glint of umbrage in the prince's gold eyes and the cold, collected disdain in his voice were unmistakable.

"The perpetrators are banished to the colonies, effective immediately. If they have reached double-digits in age and still cannot comport themselves properly, they are a lost cause."

Both the youngest royals nodded their assent. Yes, that was certainly true - one _should_ understand social mores by that age.

"You have not directly offended me. I don't see any reason to banish the four of you as well. However, your woeful lack of parenting has led to this moment. Your properties on Ember Island are forfeit. You will never set foot here again. Be grateful I will not strip you of your positions and titles, as this was not a professional transgression."

The four disgraced nobles sang a dissonant chorus of "Your Highness" and "Thank you" as the prince walked away, gesturing for his family to follow. They would neither summon help nor comfort their sons until the royal family was out of sight.

  
  


Ursa didn't know what to make of Zulya's first flame. No, she had not been the aggressor. Yes, she had risen to her brother's defence. Both facts should have made Ursa's heart swell with pride, _especially_ coupled with the prodigious level of flame Zulya had evidently put forth.

But she could not get the image of the badly burned boys out of her head. A single mistake, a single moment of childhood malice and their lives were forever changed. Couldn't it have gone differently? If only their parents had been there to compel the boys to behave. If only the parents had been there to force an apology, even an insincere, grudging one.

If only she and Ozai had been there to protect Zusha and Zulya and prevent any such incident from happening. If only it could have happened to some other set of overprivileged siblings.

More frightening yet was the amount of contempt in Zulya's eyes, her unflinching, cold fury more suited to a person of Ursa's age rather than a little girl who still cried at thunder peals. Zulya didn't fear her power. She simply had known she was right, and she had been completely unafraid of how ruthless she needed to be to tear down her foes and bring about her own brand of justice.

'Justice.' It was true that Zulya hadn't directed her flame at anyone uninvolved. Even the ground was only minimally singed. And yet the sight, the _smell_ of the boys' burnt flesh; the damage so severe their vocal cords could only produce screams the volume of whispers… Ursa shivered. The word 'disproportionate' came to mind.

The Princess Consort could hardly condemn Zulya for lashing back at the cruel boys - she had been no saint as a child and kicked more than her fair share of stomachs. But she hadn't expected her daughter to be so matter-of-fact, so unaffected by the events of the day.

Her daughter would be an effective leader. But how would she be as a person?

  
  


His daughter would be an effective leader.

Ozai was pleased. Not only had Azula's first flame demonstrated an exceptional capacity for fire-bending, she had awakened the will of Agni in righteous defence of another dragon-blooded Child of Agni. If that didn't symbolise Azula's future as the weapon that would protect the Fire Nation by cutting down all its enemies, he didn't know what would. To boot, she had struck down the objects of her ire and no innocents - powerful, but controlled and clinical. Justice enacted on those who deserved retribution. Zero collateral damage.

He had done remarkably well in naming his second child after his father. The spark in her newborn eyes had not, in fact, been a trick of the light.

His way forward was clear, a reserve strategy he had mulled over and filed away since the day of Azula's birth. Carefully divert all eligible young ladies to publicly strategic marriages to other young noblemen in the Fire Lord's court. Postpone the search for Lu Ten's bride "for the sake of his training and studies" until it can be postponed no longer and, by then, have the pool of marriageable women comprise only the women so lacking, Lu Ten could not possibly acquiesce to any of them. See to it that Lu Ten and Azula were stationed apart, wherever the war took the front. Manoeuvre them into a reunion once Azula could be seen as a woman. Rule as the Fire Lord in all but name through Azula. In perhaps a decade and a half, it would be the era of the second-born.

  
  


The newly-minted fire-bending princess and her brother danced along the shoreline, giggling as waves ebbed and flowed around their thin calves.

The little girl's intuitive port de bras arced a swirling column of flame out toward the horizon. Her face was slightly scrunched in determination, but unbridled joy made its home in her eyes.

How could he ever have been afraid? She was his sister, she was skinny, she was puny; baby-fat still clung to her cheeks; and he definitely still kicked her butt in sword fights. What did her capacity for flame matter? She had seen injustice before her eyes and brought down the will of Agni on the treasonous meanies.

"Match this!" Zuko sent a jet of flame of his own, a thinner column, but one with the benefit of six months of formal fire-bending lessons.

Undaunted, Azula tried again. And again. And again. The two both had their dragons'-hearts set on proving themselves 'worthier' of becoming future protectors of their people.

November 89 AG

"How are you feeling?" Uncle Ozai wore a hint of a smile on his face, his eyes directed at the fresh dressing on Lu Ten's side.

 _Weak. Bored. Useless. What sort of future Crown Prince takes injury from common ruffians on his way back from a mission?_ "I'm doing well, Uncle. I hope to be cleared to return to the field soon." The comforts of home were nice, but he couldn't stand to be idle, to be sequestered by the physician's orders as he recovered when so many men and women were still deployed all over the known world. The battlefield, in all its forms, called to the flameborn.

"Spoken like a trueborn Child of Agni."

Lu Ten bowed his head, but a smile graced his lips. "Speaking of, your little ones are amazing." He cocked his head out at the Royal Training Grounds, cloistered by walls and hardy trees that flourished in the volcanic ash. In the entire magnificent palace, this was the sole balcony that could see into the open clearing where the royal family honed their craft without unauthorised judgement. At the present, two small figures were lancing vermilion flames at training dummies.

Their father walked to the edge of the balcony and trained his eyes on his distant children, as if deep in thought. "She is clever and unshakeable, and has an unprecedented capacity for fire. She will be a _true_ asset to the future Fire Lord. Beautiful, too."

Lu Ten, who had been nodding along, kept his face a pleasant neutral. His uncle was not known for particularly caring about physical beauty, beyond it being a field in which he bested his elder brother and his children bested Lu Ten. It seemed uncharacteristic of him to bring it up at all. "Are you praising your own aesthetic good fortune, Uncle?" He asked, his voice light, teasing, amused. _Zusha and Zulya sure as the steadfast Kolau Mountains did not get their looks from Aunt Ursa. 'Steadfast Kolau Mountains'? Keep it together, Lu Ten._

Prince Ozai smirked at his nephew's discomfort where the seated Lu Ten could not see.

"I know the _three_ of us will serve Grandfather and Father faithfully," Lu Ten avowed, careful to include both his cousins.

 _Good, good. Plan on keeping Azula close._ His eyes narrowed as he noted the sun beating down on his children's skin. He was lucky the children mostly took after him; but while Ursa was light by peasant standards, she was no aristocratic beauty. Her haemal contribution had resulted in both children being born a shade darker than Ozai, and with hair a shade lighter. That wouldn't do. Mediocre was insufficient. Mediocre may as well have been repulsively hideous, good for nothing at all. Azula needed to be the unquestionable, _irresistible_ choice.

  
  


"Azula."

"Yes, Father."

"I'm moving your regular daytime training to the Agni Kai chamber. You will train outdoors only early in the morning, after sundown, or for specific lessons."

"Yes, Father."

January 90 AG

Dirt and sweat stained his robes as frustration burned at his eyes. Why couldn't he get the forms right when his younger sister nigh-effortlessly executed each one after a single marking? Why did he sometimes struggle to produce a respectable flame when Azula consistently bent huge columns of orange and yellow? Why did his father and grandfather gaze upon him with nothing but disapproval and disinterest while they lavished his sister with praise?

Azula pointed a finger at her brother's hip. "Zuzu, if you pull up more and turn your leg out - "

"I don't need the help of an unnatural _monster!_ " Zuko batted at the air in dismissal, calling forth a vast wall of fire - larger than any Azula had made thus far, he noted, pleased.

Azula leapt back to avoid unnecessary convection burns, but Zuko stared up at his creation in wonder, his sister and his day's disappointments quite forgotten. "Whoa." All his hard work had paid off; his father would have to acknowledge his improved fire-bending.

 _Mon… ster?_ Azula fought to keep her expression neutral, betrayed only by her creased brow. Gone quicker than the morning dew at the kiss of Agni's Light were the supportive praise and awestruck reactions from her once-loving brother now that she exceeded him. She had largely acclimated to Zuko's lexicon of bitter, resentful rebukes.

"... Sorry," she whispered, eyes downcast but _surely not_ hiding water.

But her voice was wasted; Zuko's ears were already deaf to her as he basked in the glow from his magnum opus for the day.

From behind a pillar, Prince Ozai smiled coldly at the tiles of the pai sho board falling into place, his pawns unaware that a game had even begun.

  
  


"... And then he called me a monster," Azula wailed, wrapped in a thick burgundy blanket pulled from Lu Ten's bed.

Her cousin rubbed calming circles around her back while holding her citron, honey, and ginger concoction in his other hand so that she did not scald herself from the violent shaking of her sobs. He crouched on the floor so as to be level with the little girl on the chaise longue gifted from his maternal family. In gentle tones, he soothed, "That was wrong of Zusha to say that."

"He's always so mean now. It's like he hates me."

"Oh, Zulya, he doesn't hate you." He brought his free hand up to push the blanket off her head so he could caress her hair; the gesture often lifted her spirits. "He's just struggling right now - it's not easy for him to play second fiddle to you in fire-bending."

Azula stared at him blankly, her sniffles momentarily halted in their tracks.

"Er, it's not easy for him to always be outshone by you, that is."

"But why is that my fault?"

He glanced down at the floor a half-second to collect his thoughts. "It isn't. It's not your fault at all, but he's still hurting."

The girl pointed to her hot honey drink and Lu Ten obliged, raising the glass to her lips.

"My father needs all of us, okay? So does Grandfather."

"I'm trying to be good for them. Should I pretend to be weaker?"

Lu Ten shook his head in a resolute no. "You shouldn't need to stifle your own Light. You shine your way. Zusha will learn how to shine his Light in his own way."

The prince's words changed the shape of her pout but failed to arc it into a smile.

"Everything will get better."

  
  


"Father, it troubles me greatly to disturb you. Might I humbly request a moment of your time?"

Crown Prince Iroh felt his leaden stomach sink so fast it might have crashed right through the floor and into the chamber below starting from the second word. They were alone in his study and few souls were authorised to be in the Crown Prince's quarters at this hour - not his brother's family, not his favourite attendants; and his son never spoke so formally when it was just the two of them unless he had an unsolvable issue.

He set his brush down and smiled. "Of course, Tenya. Please."

Pacing in front of Iroh's desk several times, Lu Ten drew up his courage and began. "Father, I am concerned about Uncle's treatment of Zuko and Azula. They have always gotten along well, but ever since Azula had her first flame and joined Zuko in fire-bending lessons, he constantly pits them against one another. Azula demonstrates prodigious skill, and Zuko - ever kind and loving - now spews venom at her for winning all of Uncle's praise. Zuko lacks Azula's innate talent, but he is doing no worse than I was at his age, and remains leagues ahead of the accepted standard for six-year-old fire-benders."

 _I need something stronger than jasmine tea - much stronger._ Iroh's mind flashed back to his youth, to unnecessarily bitter competitions in any field once his baby brother reached his teens and could reasonably challenge an adult male nearly seventeen years his senior. His father generously praised Iroh's victories, but only grudgingly acknowledged Ozai's efforts. Iroh often requested that the Fire Lord celebrate his younger son's fine achievements, but perhaps not as insistently as he should have, as his father's lined eyes always went into a thousand-yard trance. He knew of what and of whom his father was thinking, and it was all he could do to remind him that "That wasn't Ozai's fault" and drop the subject.

As far as Iroh could tell, Ozai had done marginally better than their father in demonstrating care for his 'less-worthy' child. Fire Lord Azulon had given his newborn son a passing look and then promptly dumped him onto a team of nannies, showing him no interest until he'd had his first flame. Iroh held his brother as often as he could - he had been precious before developing a determination to outdo Iroh at anything and everything - but he had doubts his father ever did.

True, Ozai had been inclined to give up on both children at birth, but he had been convinced to give them a chance, and he took a very active role in his children's education - granted, Iroh was certain he was still trying to impress their father through his children. But even years later, Iroh could not forget the glowing joy in Ursa's eyes when they had returned from Ember Island that time and she had gushed about Ozai personally rescuing their son.

_Poor girl probably thought Ozai had finally chosen to see his children as people instead of as a eugenics experiment._

"Father?"

"Your concerns are noted. I will bring them up with the Fire Lord, and we will see if there isn't a way to foster healthier competition to motivate the two. _Thank you_ for your concern." Matter closed.

Lu Ten bowed, careful to conceal his disappointment. "Blessed be the Eternal Dawn."

February 90 AG

With a child-sized broadsword in each hand, Zuko swung forcefully, his eyes flashing in fury and his lips curled into a sneer. All session long, he threw himself into each slash, each parry; with no regard for conservation of stamina.

"Clear your mind, Prince Zuko." It was the seventh time this hour that master swordsman Piandao had reminded his young tutee to do so. The boy practised his form diligently, as befit a royal of a war-faring nation, but for the last half-year, his focus was often elsewhere, and his form sloppy for it regardless of kinetic expenditure.

"My mind _is_ clear," the boy insisted, scowling. He had initially been a polite, mild-mannered, and dedicated pupil, determined to make his father proud. The backtalk, too, was a new and irritating development in the once-sweet boy.

"Clearly _not_."

 _I am far too old to deal with this._ Piandao knelt in front of Zuko, gently lifting the boy's wrists to draw attention to the broadswords. "Look here, Prince Zuko. The twin broadswords are two halves of a single weapon. You can use them separately, and a mediocre swordsman might find it easier to do so. But they are two different parts of the same whole, not merely a sword for your right hand and another for your left; and a _great_ swordsman will use them together, to much _greater_ effect. Do you intend to be a mediocre swordsman, Prince Zuko?"

Zuko shook his head fiercely, his breathing still heavy from carelessly wasted effort.

The older man smiled. "You and the princess are the same. You think your life would be easier without her? You're wrong. I was born a non-bender to two fire-bending prodigies. They discarded me as worthless, and now look where I am. Your sister's flame does not dim yours. You can be great _together_ , if only you learn how to wield your gifts, as two halves of a whole."

Piandao had given up his retirement to serve the Royal Family in this capacity. He could not wait for the prince to enter the Royal Fire Academy for Boys in April; once Zuko started school, Piandao would only have to deal with the fruits of the Royal Family's dysfunction on weekends.

  
  


"How goes my nephew's training?"

Piandao bowed. He could barely hear her words over the roar of the punchbowl waterfall, though it was barely an afterthought compared to those found on Shu Jing. He'd grown accustomed to reading her lips, painted in a blue-based red pigment that was all the rage in the Royal Caldera - and that he considered unsuited for her warm complexion. "He is promising, my lady."

"You said the same last month." Princess Lu Sha was the only member of the Royal Family - indeed, the entire Royal Armed Forces - the swordsman would deal with. Even Fire Lord Azulon kept a wide berth. "And stop calling me that unless you enjoy the feel of my Naginata between your ribs."

A smirk played at the man's mouth. "As I recall, ma'am, I landed more hits on your abdomen than you did mine."

Lu Sha groaned. She didn't mind the stuffy address from the young so much; hearing it from an old friend two years her senior made her feel like a mountain hag. She may have been a governor's daughter - his patron's daughter - but her provincial upbringing squarely marked her as a "lesser" in the Royal Caldera. "Your three thousand six hundred and fifty-three to my three thousand six hundred and twenty-seven; most of your lead came from the years after you had your growth spurt and I hadn't had mine."

"The spirit of war is blind and impartial."

"It is. And that is why I summoned the greatest swordsman in our blessed nation to instruct Prince Zuko." Lu Sha stepped close to Piandao, closer than royal decorum would consider proprietous. "Speak frankly, Dao-zai."

A lesser man would have dropped his poise hearing the rusted childhood nickname; Piandao evenly stood his ground. " _Frankly_ , the reach of your Naginata more than neutralises my advantage of longer limbs. You were a good fighter. I was better."

"Stop evading the question. I tire of it."

He relented. "The young prince works hard at the physical training, as he has always done. Since his sister gained her flame, he is vexed at constantly being bested by her. His heart is tumultuous, and it destroys any semblance of focus. As such, he has failed to progress in the last half-year despite his physical efforts."

"I see." It was not news to her; her son had confided his worries to her husband, and he, in turn, had whispered to her. "I am sorry my family's issues have wasted your time, then." Her tone was self-deprecating but the words teetered on treason.

He joked, "It's not so bad. I survived that freezing winter in relative comfort because I was here. I'm lucky the prince turned five the previous spring, and not the following one."

Lu Sha seldom obeyed the customs of distance between social classes even outside of sparring matches, a habit from childhood. Forced to keep his eyes on her lips whenever they spoke at the waterfall, their meetings always tested his resolve. He held his composure, as she brought a hand up to stroke his cheek. Though she was not considered fair, her skin was largely unmarred by the Light of Agni; there could not have been more distinct evidence of the difference in their stations. The chiaroscuro between her hand and his bronzed face from years of training, service, and travels under the sun may well have been the earth spirits' inspiration to create panda lilies.

He dared to gently take her hand and remove it. The waterfall masked sound, not sight. "If that will be all, Princess…" He retreated two steps.

"Dao-zai." She impatiently ignored his customary bows. "If you _must_ use a title, I _am_ a general in the Fire Army."

"A competent one, as I've heard. The Crown Prince's entire family is well-loved."

She held his gaze a moment before quietly adding, "It is because I have had the privilege to know a number of fine men that I have taught my son well. Tenya turns twenty next year, and he, too, has grown into a fine man - just like his father. Just like his mother's oldest friend."

Again, he bowed deeply. "A fine warrior, just like his mother. General."

_She loves him. She is happy and that's what matters._

August 90 AG

The previous night, Prince Lu Ten had returned from a reconnaissance mission in Agna Quel'a, the frozen fortress city that served as the capital for the Northern Water Tribe. His two young cousins had eagerly ambushed him the moment their lessons were over at dusk only to be told Lu Ten was returning to their grandfather's War Room after a recess for his evening meal. They'd patiently waited out the war meeting and now they'd come to collect.

"What was the north like?" Azula asked from Lu Ten's arms, as he carried her through the Royal Garden, past pale moonflowers joyously heralding their namesake.

"Was it like that winter two years ago?"

Lu Ten paused. "It was. It was a world of white up there. Some days I couldn't see my hand in front of my face. But other days, when it was calm and clear, it was beautiful in a stark way." The flameborn prince did not miss the arctic climate one bit and yet the northern seascape's stunning visuals had left an impression. "Imagine pure, pristine white ice and snow, moulded into a formidable wall, a hint of more intricate architecture within. Imagine that on a dark blue ocean and an impossibly deep blue sky. Imagine a place, where the Light of Agni never departs in the summer but never graces the land in the winter. The locals call it the 'midnight sun'."

 _Oooh._ Little Azula's eyes widened unbecomingly of a royal princess. _A place where my fire-bending is strengthened all summer?_

"Did you fight any of those water-bending savages?" Prince Zuko was keen to hear tales of his brave cousin's heroism. Fairy tales and legends could never hold a candle to real war epics. "I should like to hear all about it."

The young man stopped mid-stride. "You mustn't think like that," Lu Ten reproached gently. He turned to face Zuko and set Azula down by her brother so he could look directly at both his young cousins. "The smallfolk in the Water Tribes - and in the Earth Kingdom - are very much the same as the ones in the Fire Nation. They live as they have been taught. When I was in the Earth Kingdom last year, I met _many_ warm-hearted, ordinary people. Pity their circumstances, love the people. It is their ruling elite that must be taken down."

"Don't they love their rulers?" Zuko couldn't fathom the flameborn rejecting his grandfather's steadfast rule and tireless pursuit of the utopia that was rightfully theirs.

"The baseborn don't care _whose_ behind sits on the throne," Lu Ten said, his face grim. "They want to eke out their existence in peace. The Earth King and the Water Chief are ruling their people poorly. That's why we are fighting this war - to save the people beyond our current borders. That's also why we _must_ take care of our own. We would have no grounds to point fingers if we failed to protect our citizens, and our citizens would be rightly angry."

Zuko and Azula nodded obediently, too proud to let on they were not yet old enough to understand.

"The warriors as well - they are simply fighting for what they know, carrying out the orders of their elite. Inferior as their bending may be, their forms are not entirely without merit. They train hard to improve themselves, just as we do." He smiled, softly stroking Azula's head. "Harbour no hatred for the earthborn and the seaborn. It is _only_ their leadership at fault."

 _Were the skyborn the same, good people born to bad leaders?_ Zuko wondered.

"To return to your question, Zusha, the point of a reconnaissance mission is to _avoid_ engaging the enemy. When you grow up, you shall see that not every problem can simply be burned to ash."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: As I wrote Lu Sha to be from the provinces and Piandao to have been her childhood friend, I figured they needed a different style of nicknaming. I borrowed from the Cantonese '-zai' in order to have something distinct from the Russian diminutives used in the Royal Family.
> 
> 'Princess Keika' is the 'Youkihi' cocktail in real life, and 'Melon Lord' is the equivalent of 'Midori Melon'.


End file.
